Cry to the Moon
by drunkdragon
Summary: You are shattered, ever watching, and a controller of the tides of Remnant. You are not a bringer of lunacy, you have no aura, and you're certainly not a person. But that doesn't stop people from talking to you, and it certainly doesn't stop you from trying to help them in return. But what can you do? You're just the moon.


You're used to people staring at you. You're up in the sky all night in some side of Remnant or another, your shattered pieces strewn about like pebbles tonight. The people can see your insides, for all you know. You're not always like this. Some nights you're in one piece and other nights you're a mess. But after millions of years of rotating around the world you're used to it.

Hell, these are the same people that worshipped you until they discovered you were just a giant rock. Of course, you were saddened that no one really looked at you anymore with the same reverence. You also felt bad about yourself that they didn't think you were sentient anymore. But that's okay - you've accepted that you're the moon and kinda can't do anything about it.

There's not much you can do at all, even. You can't save people, can't help them find their scroll, and you certainly can't help them decide which outfit looks better for their date.

You can control the tides though! You're damn good at that, and without the tides humanity would probably have some trouble with seafood.

But tonight, as you lazily spin on your axis, wondering if you'll see a shooting star, your gaze fixates on something else. Or, you'd try to gaze if you had eyes, but you don't. It's more like you're tuning into someone. The metals in your core hone in on something. They're brown, they're fluffy…

It's a pair of rabbit ears on top of brown hair.

Suddenly the full body comes into view. She's sitting on bench in a park, or the remains of a park, with her eyes fixated on your shattered body. There are a thousand conversations ranging from who's banging who to death and taxes, but you find yourself drawn to her brown gaze. Everything else just fades away.

Just as she begins to speak, something in you picks out her name. Velvet Scarlatina.

"They say that there's a rabbit on the moon. That can't be true because you're all shattered. No rabbit would want to live there."

You agree with her. Rabbits needed food, water, shelter, and other rabbits. And as a moon you can provide none of that. But with the way her voice sounds, it's like she wants to be anywhere but on that bench.

Her head tilts down and away from you. You try to lean in and look at her, but your orbit and other gravitational powers keep you from moving. You're locked in place. But thankfully she gazes up at you again. But this time there's a clear frown on her face.

"Beacon's… Beacon's been gone for a month now."

Ah. That. You watched that happen. The tournament was going great, and then everything went south right as you crested the sky. You kinda felt bad that it all occurred as you made your presence known, but you also know that you are not responsible for the machinations of man. You are innocent. But it didn't make watching any easier.

"Everyone's off doing their own thing. I hear Team RWBY separated, and JNPR…"

Her voice fades away. You wonder if it's your metal bits going weird again, but her lips stopped moving so you know it's not a fluke. But she pushes on, swallowing and continuing.

"At least CFVY is still together. But Vale's a mess. It'll get better. It has to get better. We'll make it better," she sniffs. "But there's just so much work to be done."

You think you're leaking moon dust from your surface. Someone sent the astronauts up here or something. But you don't know if you're making the right analogy. No one cuts onions in space, after all, and you've never cried before. Do you even have water somewhere on you?

"We… We almost lost Fox today."

Her head ducks down again and - oh no, she's sniveling for real. Her hands got to her eyes and she starts wiping them.

But it's really her voice that makes it real, that hits home to your metal core. "We didn't lose him, but… I'm scared about the future." She sobs. "I-I mean, this is our home. I want to have a family and grow old here. I don't want to see people scared anymore."

One last wrenching heave of her chest, a big sniff.

"But what can I do? I'm just one person."

Her voice is as shattered as you, and that breaks you further.

She doesn't say anything else. She just sobs there all alone on the bench in the destroyed park. You stay silent. You're the moon. Moons can't talk. But there is one thing you can do. You wait for her shoulders to stop shaking. With one last forlorn and bloodshot gaze, she looks up at you and you move to action.

You try to glow a bit brighter. You don't know if it works, though. Your brightness is dictated by the amount of light you reflect from the sun and that is determined by how far away you are from it, so you really have no control over that. But it's the thought that counts, right? Sure, you're just a rock at the end of the day (okay, maybe a sentient rock) but-

At the end of it all though you just try to shine brightly. You try really, really hard, or you believe you did. After all, that's what Mama Star and Papa Star always did before they supernova'd together and made you, right? Shine brightly?

Her gaze is fixated on you a little longer. She seems to have calmed down. And in the solitude that the both of you share, it feels like something inside you has reached her. You're not sure how, because you're just a rock. But her gaze at you is different. It's no longer pained. It's just calm. That means it worked, right?

Long after she's gone back inside to sleep for the night, long after you've stopped shining upon Vale, you keep an eye open for a shooting star. It takes hours. In fact, you don't see one until you cross over Atlas, but when you do, Velvet's the first person that comes to mind and you give her a wish.

* * *

A/N: A fic in which the moon is the most useless of lesbians. Somewhat inspired by the old folk tales that a rabbit is on the moon.


End file.
